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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"Flames"

You must do with tea."
She rang the bell and ordered it despite his grumblings. Mrs. Brigg made
no difficulty. Julian had long ago soothed her delicate susceptibilities
with gold.
So, Cuckoo, oddly shy and excited, made tea for the doctor and Julian.
The tea cleared the latter's fogged brain a little, but he was still
morose and self-centred. He had evidently come to pour some woes out
to Cuckoo and was restrained by the presence of the doctor, at whom he
looked from time to time with an expression that was near to disfavour.
But the doctor began to chat easily and cordially, and Julian gradually
thawed.
"I suppose you know Rip's dead," he said presently. "Went out the other
night and got frozen in the snow. Poor little beggar. Val's awfully cut
up about it."
"Is he?" said the doctor.
"Yes. Dear old Val. Dev'lish hard Rip's never making it up with him
again, wasn't it? Rip didn't know a good fellow, did he, doctor?"
"He was devoted to Valentine once," the doctor said.
"Ah, but he changed. Dogs are just like women, just like women, never the
same two days together. Curse them."
He appeared to have forgotten Cuckoo's presence, and she sat listening
eagerly, quite unmoved by the dagger thrust at her sex.


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